Hold on to me
by thggirl
Summary: The cave scene during the Hunger Games reversed. Peeta doesn't get his leg injured but instead Katniss does. How will she cope having to depend completely on the boy with the bread?
1. Chapter 1

**Here it is the reverse cave scene that some have wanted to read for a while! Over 2000 word chapter to start it off.**

**What you should know before you read:**

**This is basically like the cave scene from the book reversed. Katniss is in Peeta's situation and Peeta in Katniss'. Although I have made some changes to differentiate it a little more from the books.**

**In this Peeta does not join the careers.**

**From the beginning of the games Peeta stays at the cave, just incase I don't clarify that enough.**

**Katniss gets the same injury as Peeta does in the book, she is a girl and she is smaller than Peeta therefore it will have a bigger effect on her than Peeta.**

**As of right now I believe this story will be 1-5 chapters but I could be wrong.**

**I'm no medical expert and I will not be able to explain everything. **

**I am thirteen, this will not be perfect and there probably will be mistakes. And this was written by phone.**

**That's it I think, enjoy. I hope! **

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Chapter 1

_Peeta's POV : _

The games began one day ago, over that time eight tributes have been killed, to my luck and sanity Katniss is not one of them. That still doesn't mean every second I don't worry about her. Of course I don't doubt her skills for a second but I do wonder if she has even gotten a bow, or any weapon for that matter. Could she be wounded or trapped, near death? I should stop thinking like this it's not exactly helping me any but I just can't stop myself or change the subject. All I know is her face has not shown in the sky yet, I hope it never does.

When we had first arrived into the arena I had come to find Katniss was placed out on the launch pad furthest from mine. I had immediately figured out that it was indeed a move of the gamemakers they had known to do so because of my interview. After this is only a show for them, our lives are meaningless. As unfortunate as it was to be placed there I am luckier than the others. Many items were placed near me and I was on the launch pad near the dense forest of the arena, that had given me the opportunity to grab a large backpack and belt of knives before running. Had it been a coincidence that the largest backpack out was the one closest to me, could that also be work of the gamemakers? Maybe they want me to live longer because I had captured the capitals attention with my confession?

After grabbing the supplies I had quickly ran into the woods without a second thought. Although, now, I deeply regret my fast decision, even though it helped me make it out alive. I could've at least watched a little bit and made sure she was alright or got something. I didn't, I haven't known her condition or seen her since before the games commenced. Instead, I had ran for the whole day and kept going ceaselessly before reaching a stream that ran straight through the leafy-green land. I had filled up my canteen in the bag and continued searching in hopes of finding a decent shelter.

About fifteen minutes of more walking I went through some lush brush that had opened up to a clearing. In it I found a cave that was concealed in thick green and rotten brown vines, approaching closer I had thought it was a rock. Then I saw that I was wrong when I found a way in, it's actually a cave. I figured it was a decent - no excellent shelter for the games, it's pretty isolated and would hold in many weather conditions.

I took refuge there, although I did not get much rest.

Now it must be mid-morning, the sun gradually rises up into the sky creating many pastel hues above the trees. Soft pinks, a soft shade of a vivid orange, my favorite color. A faint purple resides at the top, nearby the birds begin to chirp at the start of the early hours. The crisp air causes the ankle-deep grass sway in a rhythm with the trees limbs that rustle at the slow movement. The slowly increasing light peeks through the mouth of the cave. If I had my sketchbook I would capture this moment in it's pages. I'm struck by the vivacious scene before my eyes, all I have ever seen is coal-covered district 12, this is amazing.

The backpack which I had picked up is a large one in the color of jean blue. I had checked through it's contents yesterday after arriving here. Inside I found three empty water bottles, matches, beef jerky, dried fruit, crackers, iodine, bandages, a first aid kit and 2 extra shirts. The three empty water bottles I have filled at the nearby stream and added two drops of iodine into them. I do have a lot compared to the other tributes; outside of the careers. It's kind of like I actually made a impression in the capitol and they're willing me to survive and make it near the end. I will try.

* * *

_Katniss' POV (Later into the games) :_

Smoke taints the air being a remnant of the fire that had blazed through the forest earlier. The snore that comes from the careers below are the only thing that restrain me from getting down and making a run for it. A dull pain throbs in my leg from the burn that has mostly healed thanks to the burn cream. Everything is normal, no screams or bloodshed tonight. The only activity was the faces projected in the sky about two hours ago. For now I'm alright. Although, tomorrow, I am to be awoken with problems, if I mess up I will certainly be killed. I can't sleep not with this reminder lurking in every crevice of my worried mind.

Then I hear it, faintly, the rustle of a tree limb and the whisper that ensues it. "Katniss."

Frantically, I turn to be greeted with wide brown eyes that glimmer in the next tree about five feet from the one I am in. At a first glance you'd easily mistake the small figure and eyes for an animal perched in the tree, then I closer examine it and see it is not animal - _she_ is a small girl. Only with the minimal help of the faint moonlight from the game makers I recognize her. Her mocha-colored skin slightly glows and her eyes reflect the light. Rue, the small girl from district 11. The youngest one in the games, she does not deserve to be here. Nobody does.

She notices she has grasped my attention she puts up her pointer finger; aimed at something _above_ my head.

Hesitantly, I look up at first it is only a few tree limbs of the oak then, I spot it. The nest of tracker jackers. I glance back to her. She makes a sawing motion, back and forth with her hand and nods to the handle of my knife that lies in my boot, I pluck it out and ascend to the branch above careful not to create noise. I motion Rue to leave and she does, delicately hopping branch to branch with precise movements. Her small silhouette has disappeared into the inky black distance within half a minute.

With a shaky hand I place the blade to the bark. At the moment I do not regret what I am about to do. My main priority is going home, for Prim. But two people stand between that, the games only have one winner, which means Peeta, the boy with the bread, the one I owe greatly and innocent little Rue - would have to die. The thought of their deaths does _not _settle well in my stomach. Maybe I was wrong to get slightly attached to each in my mind. Rue is to much like Prim, I was stuck as soon as I saw her. I didn't exactly have a choice with Peeta either, how could I have known the boy that had thrown me bread years ago - the one who saved my life; that I would _possibly_ have to go back and kill him a few years later? If it were to come down to it I don't think I could kill them. Now I can only hope I won't have too. Both of them have helped me in a way. I hate owing.

Below me the careers sleep peacefully, they do not know that won't last long. Some part of me screams_ no they're really just people like you, they don't want to die. They're only teenagers!_ I know They're innocence however was taken long ago, since they could walk they were taught to kill. Who would they actually be if circumstances were different?

That small aching peice of me does not stop me. Prim needs me. My heart pounds in my ears, and my blood burns in my veins. That is what makes me begin to saw the limb off.

I go as fast as possible in an incessant motion. Back and forth.

At the movement the tracker jackers begin to leave their nest. One. Two. Three.

They swarm everywhere then I gasp in pain when I feel the intense burning, like fire, right in my neck.

Ignoring the sting, I continue my movements only partially slowed. _For Prim._

Then it's gone, falling, the whole branch with the nest dangling from it. Like slow motion, crashing through the limbs until it bursts open at the contact of the ground.

Buzzing and screams are deafening to the ears after it lands. Bunches of yellow and black whirl below as the careers struggle flail and try to escape the furious insects. Glimmer drags herself screeching for someone to help her. No one does. She stumbles further, out of my view, but I reckon she will not get far in her condition.

* * *

I fell out of the tree then continued to be stung twice by straying tracker jackers. Now I'm worried about myself. My stings throb and poison feels like it tingles throughout my body, it's all so dull is strange now, maybe I'm beginning to hulucinate. My sight seems to flicker, the corners of my vision are black like the way paper burns. I'm sure I'm walking straight, but oh, everything is spinning, am I really walking straight? I crash into a tree before I slide down it. Maybe I should rest.

I see Prim on her knees before me in tears, the ugly mangled cat squeezed tightly in her arms. "Katniss how could you!" She sobs a fresh tear leaving her red eyes and going down her blotchy cheek.

"I never did anything! Why are you crying! " I cry in concern for my little sister.

Suddenly, from behind Prim, Cato burst out of a fuzzy green bush, sword poised. It looks like there's three of him. It's slow motion. I can't even move to help her.

"Prim, watch out! Behind you!" I screech my finger shaking at Cato. But he steps right over her.

"Lover boy isn't here to save you, that's a shame." He utters, Prim glares at me from behind him her hand pushing through buttercup's coat.

I don't even recognize the scream that escapes my mouth as my own, the blade of the sword is plunged deep inside the flesh of my mid-thigh. My vision blurs more. I feel like I will faint, my leg stings and the fire consumes my entire leg. Tears prick at my eyes.

"Firegirl your going to suffer for what you did."

The blade twists and I put a hand up to my quivering lip to stifle my scream. Slowly, he pulls the blade out. The cry built in my throat escapes in a blood-curling scream. A tear rolls down my cheek. My vision burns and my eyes water before everything is overcome with white. I would not hesitate to believe I'm dead.

* * *

I'm very aware of the flaring burn in my throat when I wake up. My mind is clouded and my head pounds throbbingly non-stop. My stings are swollen and cause immense pain. My entire leg feels like it's been stabbed by myriad of needles. I wish it were just numb. My thigh feels like it's on fire. The smell or rotting flesh is very strong, it must be from my leg. I'm to scared to lift my head, which feels like a million pounds, out of the leaves and look at it. Could it possibly be worse than it feels? How long have I been here?

I _need _water. But I can't move, I don't even have to attempt to, I know this.

_This is it, I'm going to die now._ _I'm sorry Prim. I'm sorry Gale. I'm sorry Madge._

I know all of you believed I could survive, that I would could come back home. But all along I knew I couldn't. I broke my promise.

With an unstable, shuttering hand I press three fingers to my mouth and let my hand fall back by my side unsure of when I will no longer be in this arena. Father, I'm coming with you wherever you are.

* * *

_Peeta's POV: _

I sit on my sleeping bag watching the mid-afternoon sun, I'm not sure what to do. I've been mostly eating small rations of the beef jerky, dried fruit and crackers. Although I wonder I will do when I run out, surely Haymitch wouldn't let me starve. I'm not worried about myself however, I'm worried about _Katniss. _I worry about her condition, does she have food and water, what about shelter?

Many times I've internally battled to go look for Katniss although I've refused to. If I did go it's more likely I would run into someone else, she is only one person out of everyone else and this is a huge arena. But I wanted to protect her ever since she was reaped and I can't, and guilt is eating me alive for it.

Metal clanks against rock. There sits a parachute, underneath sits a small container. I'm nothing less than surprised.

Hurriedly, I open it. Inside is a small folded piece of paper. There isn't any gift. But the piece of information the paper gives is better than any gift.

"_She doesn't have much longer, if you're going go now. Look by the river and stay alive. -H"_

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**So I hope my introduction chapter to my story was not that bad. **

**I am actually really enjoying rewriting this idea. This story first appealed to be written about a year ago-I had immediately written it but decided against actually putting it up. I kept it with my drafts of unpublished stories. I have majorly improved in my writing skills since last year I knew it had to be rewritten and so I made this. Seriously though, I'd be embarrassed to show you the first one I wrote. I still have it saved in my phone just to laugh at it. :D**

**Well what do you guys think of this, I know this probably a very boring introduction but next chapter is full of Everlark/Peeniss whatever. ;)**

**I've already started the next chapter so I'll update soon if you'd like to read more! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

_Katniss' POV: _

As I lie here hopelessly, I drift in and out of consciousness. My mind is disturbingly blank, maybe I am still in shock gripping reality, or maybe it's because I'm still on the edge of hallucinations. Whatever it is it holds me down, like I'm paralyzed, I can't move anywhere or consider dragging myself somewhere safer, I'm stuck here. Just before I'm about to drift off I hear it faintly over the ringing in my ears.

Footsteps. Loud footsteps. Fear and comfort roll in my stomach. They can kill me if I am found. That would mean I'd have to endure more pain, and in the end I'd be gone. I'd leave Prim doing so but I already accepted I wouldn't be going home to her anyways. If they kill me that means I am free from here, from Panem, from Snow.

Whoever takes each step could not be a hunter with such loud tread they'd scare every animal within a ten mile radius. Even with my dull hearing I can hear them with a shocking clarity.

I pray it's not Cato, he'd torture me some more if we cross paths. I just want death. But then I don't want death, because Prim. Sweet, innocent Prim who is being forced to watch me. I hope she turned away when Cato stabbed me.

Closer they approach, useless I am to moving or hiding, I'm left here to be spotted. I roll my head to the side my cheek falls into the plush grass I stare into the forest. In front of me a ladybug takes small steps up a blade of grass, I smile at it. I cannot hear but birds must be chirping over the metallic ringing, they're to quiet to be heard only the loud footsteps break through the sound. The smell of my leg rotting is overpowering to anything else but beyond that I can make out the smell of the woods and fresh air, if I can ignore the disgusting smell of my flesh maybe I can pretend I'm in the woods.

Apart the small green bush breaks open, the one that separated me from the person with loud footsteps.

Peeta appears. He looks bright and healthy unlike I, how did he manage so? Out of all people, it turned out to be him here. I can't help but think this is sick, the boy who saved me will now be the one to kill me. What a grand finale to my miserable life.

Suddenly, he's kneeling next to me.

"Katniss, what happened to you?" He asks carefully, his hand pulls a strand of hair from my face.

I gulp trying to make my throat less dry. Slowly, I turn from the ground and look up to him.

Maybe he's taking in my state first, the tracker jacket stings the bloodied leg, maybe he figures I'll die without his help.

Although he's still momentarily and I'm frustrated with it.

"What are you waiting for?" I utter weakly. In other words, _Kill me now, please._

He looks to me ruefully, and shakes his head. "No."

"No I'm not killing you."

_How could you expect him to anyways? _It's something I'd never imagine him to do no matter the circumstances.

I'm waiting for him to stand up but he doesn't. He stays kneeled next to me, like he's thinking something through.

He reaches out and grips me under my knees with one arm and grabs me around the shoulder with the , I freak out. "What are you doing, " I cry in shock and distressed at his sudden movement.

"I'm not leaving you here," he says thickly his blonde eyebrows scrunched.

Weighing the options I see if I did go with him that I have a better chance rather than lying here, however if I somehow make it to the end I couldn't kill the boy who saved me once-no twice in that matter. If I go with him then I'd be a burden but have a better chance at surviving. But I owe him, I can't be selfish.

He stands up without my consent and takes me with him, at this point I don't even have an option I guess. Instead of fighting I comply, for Prim, she'd urge me to allow him. I need to go home to her, no matter the costs.

Peeta carries me as if I'm weightless this is no surprise to me after I've seen him lift over a hundred pound sacks of flour at the bakery and compete in wrestling at school.

It's odd hanging on your back facing up with a bloodied leg, I watch up and see the sky and his face. The sky is light blue and cloudless, the gamemakers have done that I am sure. I hadn't seen him this close before but now that I had the chance I study him, his face is chiseled, his features are prominent, right on his chin - you can't tell so without the help of the sun is a subtle amount of pale blonde hair. This was the boy with the bread, closer than ever.

My ringing ears have begun to subside partially, therefore I can here the rushing water as we approach it. Suddenly, the incessant rhythm of his legs I had become fond of come to a halt.

"Here you need to get cleaned up," cautiously he lays me on a stone next to the river which isn't blanketed in mud.

"Where'd you get cut?" he asks as his eye roam my body taking in my condition.

My own voice is startling, it's raspy and dry. "Mid-thigh, right leg."

He looks, his hands go to my leg and he finds exactly where the puncture on my leg is located. I notice how his teeth gnaw on his lip at the sight.

"Katniss, I'm going to um-have to take your pants off." He says it straight to the point, however bashful, his cheeks are red, his azure eyes trained at the slab of rock above my head.

What if what he said in his interview held any meaning? I'm suddenly flustered. But right now I'd do anything to have these filthy, spoiled, clothes off. I swallow the lump in my throat which feels like a clump of dry clay. "Okay, go ahead."

He does, his hands inch up and awkwardly unbuckle my brown leather belt that came with my clothes upon the commencing of the games. The cargo pangs wiggle down my legs, I can tell he's trying to be careful not to irritate the cut as well as not dwell on taking my pants off for the sake of the already tense air we both seem to have at the moment.

As he slides it to my ankles I help him, kicking my leg.

The breeze moves to my swollen leg and kisses my now bare skin. It's after a few seconds I'm self concious, I resist the urge to fight my way back into the pants. For the girls panties this year we had lacy black underwear, I think that's purely for the capitol. Those sick freaks must be watching me at the moment, disgusted I try to forget the cameras which must be directly focused on me at this moment. Oh even Gale is watching this, I've never been so embarrassed in my life. This is fine, this is how my mom works on patients all the time, I tell myself. I look over and then there's Peeta, who by the look on his face right now must be the most innocent teenage boy in Panem. His cheeks look like they will permanently be stained red at this point.

"Er I need to wash your shirt too," He mumbles incoherently. I don't miss the way his eyes drift down before he brings them back up.

Wordlessly, I begin to pull my arms in my shirt and slip it over my head, I throw it into the pile my pants are in. To my displeasure I have been dressed in a matching bra.

Peeta picks me up and carries me to the edge of the stream. I'm not sure why he goes through this but he does, maybe he's aching for human contact, after all he was always covered in friends back home.

On the shore of the stream there is mush sand, carefully he lies me down in it before, without warning, fully turning me and putting my legs completely in the water. At first I hiss at the contact of it. My head lifelessly turns to the side and I see swirls of red around my leg. Then, it doesn't feel so bad.

"I'm going to take you in the water now." He tells me before scooping me up again before wading in the water to his knees, not minding that the bottoms of his pants are getting soaked along with his boots in the process.

Leaning over he lowers me in, my back is in water along with the rest if my body. The only thing above is my face the water is to my scalp however, my hair dangles in getting washed as well. I use my hands and run them through my hair untangling the snarls with my fingers and removing dirt. Then I do the same and skim my fingers over my body, it's awkward, especially when your being held above the water by a boy.

Thankfully it's only a two minute task and I'm being took back to the warm rock to rest after.

He shrugs off his jacket and his upper body shifts at the movement, I now understand that he must be popular with girls back home, not that I ever doubted it before.

I blink and his hand is extended with the coat to me, "here." I take it accepting his offer and cover myself. Protecting my body from the breeze, and the eyes of Panem and okay, Peeta's gaze too. For the cameras and gamemakers ;that should be enough to keep them interested and not pull a major twist.

Now I think Peeta's washing my clothes. Still I don't quite understands why he bothers with me.

After he leaves them to dry hanging from a near by limb of a tree. As we wait Peeta hands me a bottle of water and I drink, trying to satisfy my dry, parched throat. I sleep to pass time, it isn't hard with me being clean for the first time in days and being cocooned in a large jacket.

I'm shook awake at dawn, Peeta silently hands me my now dry clothes as I wake up more.

Silently, I put them on as he turns his back, I struggle with the pants however. Unfortunately and embarrassingly I have to ask Peeta for help. I'm beet red as he carefully slips them back up. "Thanks," I say quietly feeling shy and timid.

He smiles in response, I think he gets how strange it'd be to say 'your welcome' too.

I'm in his arms again once he pulls me off the rock. "Where are we going?"

"I've been staying in a cave, we'll go there." He responds factually. With the setting sun the sky slowly becomes dark. We travel under the stars.


	3. Chapter 3

Alright here is more people! Chapter 3 Katniss' POV: When we arrive at the cave Peeta sets me on the top of a sleeping bag before digging through a blue backpack tucked into the corner of the cave. From it he produces white pristine, capitol grade bandages. He looks to have no idea like I, I'm not surprised, neither of us were prepared for the games. "Um...maybe it'd be better covered up?" He asks I can only slightly see him due to the lack of light that passed through the vines that lie blanketed around the entrance. That and it's a particularly dark night. I could agree with his suggestion, my slightly inflamed throbbing wound would make better covered. At least then I'd know for sure nothing else can get into it and it'd be infected. "Alright. " He hands me the bandage and I quickly loop it into a tight knot around my leg which I think will suffice. We stay in our positions, Peeta sitting closer to the entrance of the cave and I on the sleeping bag deeper in. All the sudden a clap hits the ground outside of the cave. Instantly another. Then it increases more per second. I sit up using my shaky arms, careful not to irritate my leg. Then I see what it is; rain. What I suspected. "Peeta?" I ask his figure that is faced toward the rain. He turns to me. "Yeah?" "You should take your sleeping bag," I wiggle off it and reposition myself on the cave floor. "No of course not, I rather you use it," he affirms. "I'm not going to make you sleep on the floor, it's yours you use it." I argue in disbelief. He's silent. I am too. Suddenly, I feel the temperature drop, fast. The heat in the cave seems to disappear and the nippy air from outside seeps in. Frantically the rain picks up, it sprays and incessantly pounds the roof of the cave and slips through a crack in small drips. The mouth of the cave has slight water that's creeped inside, its only to the toe of Peeta's boot. A chilly wind gusts through the front, the vines shake, I do too. "Come here," I urge Peeta from the front of the cave, he's helped me twice I'm not going to let him do something else for me. He does, taking a seat on the floor nearly a foot from me, he drifts his eyes to my curled up form. I scowl at him without contemplation. Immediately he redirects his gaze at the wall. Lower the temperature drops, in less than five minutes. We're all chilled, the gamemakers are ruthless. I can only feel bad for the others, they're outside in the weather and the rain. My stomach tightens, Rue is out in a tree somewhere in the middle of this. I'd be out in this too with a bloodied leg dying, but the boy with the bread has came back in my time of distress. How does this happen every time? Why does he show up just in time to prevent my death? I look at him from the corner of my eye, his golden hair glows even in this lack of light, his sapphire eyes still. I remove my eyes quickly before I do something stupid like smile at him. My eyes cast to the sleeping bag limply lying there. It would be warm, it's so thick it'd be so easy to curl up in it's walls and forget the mess I'm in. But it'd be wrong to use it and not Peeta, after all it is his. I look at it thoughtfully, maybe we could fit in there. No he must not want to share a sleeping bag with me. I'd be okay with it, it'd be awkward most likely, although the middle of the hunger games is not a place to be picky. I exhale blowing air through my mouth. The temperature plummets minute by minute. You'd think the gamemakers would have more mercy. Nearly fifteen minutes later the cold is what sways me into my decision. I can only hope this will turn out well. Again I focus back on Peeta who looks mildly cold in his stiff position, he has a larger frame than I he won't be as cold. "We could fit in that sleeping bag," I nearly regret it the moment it passes my lips. Though desperation will make you do anything it seems. Even if that means sharing a sleeping bag with a boy. After all, it could be worse. He looks to me, "yeah, probably, are you suggesting...?" I don't trust my voice, I nod. "Okay that'll work fine, maybe you should get in first." He readily agrees, maybe he was colder than I thought. I untie my boots knowing it's going to be hard to fit the both of us in there, we'll be warm though. After I slip off my boots I shove my socks into them, it feels great to finally not have them stuck to my feet. With ease I slip myself into the sleeping bag, the warm fabric inside feels like the softest thing I've ever touched, of course I'd think so after the uncounted days here. I lie on my side in the thick down making as much space as I can. My back is pushed to the outside as my stomach facing the interior of the bag. Peeta takes off his boots and follows my lead barely fitting inside the tight one person bag. Actually no his shoulders don't fit in, I bite my lip and close the few inches I have pushing myself against him before he wraps his arms around me and we only then both fit in the bag. Heat rolls in thick waves off him, my body absorbs it without hesitation. His larger frame seems to block the wind and protect me from the threatening cold that lurks around. My wounded leg lies limply slightly tangled with his. He shifts only to adjust himself to the tight space more and I dig my hands into his shirt. His warm embrace tightens and surrounds me in a tight hold that urges me to fall asleep. Feeling more comfortable with Peeta I succumb the urge and lie my head down into his chest. "Goodnight Peeta, " I murmur his heartbeat strumming beneath my ear. "Night Katniss." My hand is still fisted in his shirt when I wake up, I pull it off. I feel hot, too hot, quickly I slide out of the sleeping bag sort of dragging my wounded leg out in the process. I succeed in getting out but not doing so without waking Peeta up. He groans and looks up at me. "What's wrong," he asks looking a little worried as he rubs his eyes. "Nothing just a little warm," I say immediately. He inches forward out of the sleeping bag but suddenly there's a loud thud outside, he quickly looks to the entrance before standing and going there. He slips through the vines and my chest tightens in fear and uncertainty. I've enjoyed having actual human contact after being alone in an arena for who knows how long, I lost count of the days. Now, it seems when anything good happens to me it only is there for a while before it slips through my fingers. This is our lives at stake but in a arena with one survivor you'll have to go through hell to get there. Going home seems to be not an option now, Peeta should and most likely will. The only way to win for me is his death. It'd be utterly wrong to spring an attack on Peeta, I'm to in debt with him. That and I'm way to weak. I scold myself, how could I even think of harming him, all he's done is good, more innocent than I at this point. I just need a plan, something, how will I make it through, how can I endure much more injured? After all, I can't depend on Peeta for survival, I already owe him and I'm not that selfish. Peeta's POV: As soon as I emerge through the thicket of vines at the mouth of the cave I see it. A parachute about the size of my fist with a note attached to it by twine. Haymitch. I grab it and detach the note. "Start a romance and keep the capitols interest to gain gifts. Stay alive. -H" That will be hard to do, of course I want it but getting Katniss to go with me not knowing she has to will be a whole new challenge. Gifts are probably medicine, which is greatly needed now. I can't afford to fail this, it's Katniss' life on the line. Katniss' POV: The thought of him being attacked out there is shot down when he returns in less than a minute unscathed. "There wasn't anything out there," he says smoothly not breaking eye contact with me. It's then that I realize him being the smooth talker he is it'd be near impossible to decipher a lie from his mouth. But who doesn't lie? Surely he would any time he feels he should. I take his words and at that moment accept them as truth but my suspicions are irked. He comes and kneels in front of me on the hard floor of the cave, his growing hair falls in front of his blue eyes slightly, you can tell it hasn't been trimmed since entering the arena. "You told me you were feeling warm," he says bringing up my statement from earlier. He reaches a hand out and I'm startled to see it tenderly land on my forehead. It feels cold. I'm frozen as he holds it there longer than I'd like. "You're burning up Katniss," He murmurs his lips bow as his eyes clench and frame adopts stiffness. "Peeta I'm okay, really," I confirm and try to ease him. It's sort of a lie, my leg throbs beneath the bloodied bandage, each time it sends a spike of burning pain searing from the location of the wound. The air seems a bit hot today and my head is dizzy. No matter what I say he however is restless. I close my eyes after my futile attempt at something of a comforting lie. When I open them I see he has moved, now he digs through his backpack in the corner before pulling out a water bottle and a small box of crackers. Within a few strides of his legs he's in front of me again. "Here you need to eat and drink." He pushes the water bottle and crackers to me. "I'm not taking anything else from you I already owe you enough. " I decline stubbornly shaking my head. "You don't owe me anything." Our eyes touch, my breath has become ragged due to the agonizing pain my leg emits. I push the stuff back and lie back on the cool floor that feels good on my skin. My eyes close once again and I grit my teeth. "Yes I do, you've already done enough for me." It's silent. I accept it and the darkness behind my lids. Prim appears in my mind, she looks so small and fragile, I'm 12 again we're starving. What if something like that happens again, I don't believe I'll make it home to help her. What about Gale seeing his hunting partner weak depending on a boy that I really know nothing of. If I were to make it back he'd look at me differently, right? I divert my thoughts, what is to happen is unknown and right now it's useless to wonder what if. The stillness of the cave prolongs. The dryness of my throat aches every time I swallow. It's red-hot pain sizzles and urges me to get water, which I'm not capable of. Peeta is the only way to it at this point, and to face it I know I'll be dead either of dehydration or from this wound without his help. It's like I can feel him staring at me while my eyes are closed. Kind of like the way he'd stare at me in school, I thought he was expecting a thank you which I could never seem to muster up. A part of me screams he could cause me harm and I should have my eyes open watching him carefully, but honestly, he'd have killed me already rather than going through all the trouble. "Is it the bread from we were kids or now?" His voice travels through the expanse of the cave. I open my eyes and sure enough he's looking at me. I sit up even though it strains my leg, he adverts his gaze. "Both Peeta." "You don't owe me for either, definitely not when we were kids!" He shakes his head vehemently as he says his point. "No, I don't care, you saved me twice and that means I have to pay you back, but certainly not take more." "You're really not going to let me help you after all I did to get you here?" He does make his point, he doesn't want to see me die after dragging me all this way to survive. "But it's wrong to keep taking! First the bread and then you clean my wound and take me into your shelter, I can't take more," I say refusing again. "Katniss I wanted to find you the whole time, you're not a nuisance, please just let me take care of you, you don't always have to be strong." I look at him skeptically, his words make his statement in the interview seem true. And I can't make a decision of what I'd like to do anymore. After many words and reassurances from him he convinces me to eat and drink a little before he wets a cloth and puts it on my head to soothe the heat a bit. I keep offering to watch, he tells me to rest, I steadily begin to be lulled to sleep. Before it overtakes me he leans down to where I lie and presses a kiss to my warm cheek. I pretend to be asleep to avoid confusion with him, but really I'm crazy to know why he did it. 


	4. Chapter 4

**This was extremely fun for me to write and I do hope you enjoy it, I've had ideas pent up for this story and I've been furiously typing them down on all my free time today and yesterday. Anyways, I'll most likely have the next chapter up soon, this story is getting to the action and it's really exciting to watch develop! :) Without any further ramblings here's the story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

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Chapter 4:

Even a while after the sleep fully dissipates I remain still and keep my eyes shut, the warmth of the sleeping bag and my thoughts surround me and forbid me from actually stirring.

While staying at this cave with Peeta has been an incredibly wonderful paradise in these disastrous games we've been forced into it's all so wrong. Taking from Peeta yet again and not being useful in anyway, unless, just maybe although I doubt it, he likes the company of a small dark girl. But even if that somehow is true, that the unbelievably small gift of my presences is slightly enjoyable it doesn't even begin to make up for everything he's given. This situation is wholly unfair and unprofitable to him, and yet, he persists. Now I regret taking food from him, even if I only took barely any when he tried to feed me more, it's still undeniably wrong. I just wasn't thinking when he used his words and charm to coax me into taking more. Why does he, the kind, caring, person he is get into this, why must the boy with bread be put in such a situation with I? He certainly deserves nothing like this, he's drenched in an innocence that I've lost. That boy shouldn't be here, let alone anywhere near here. Most definitely he should survive, and once again, I'm pressured with a thousand pounds of guilt, I owe him my life and I'm allowing myself to be a burden unto him; even though he says otherwise I don't believe his words as true. He who sits somewhere in this cave with I, I decide a brief glance wouldn't hurt.

Cautiously, I subtly peer out of my eyes hooded by heavy lids, outside of my dark sooty lashes I see light. An orange glow of the sun's fingers splayed across the arena, warmth floods from it in plentiful waves seeping through the dense vine's enclosure and tickling my bare arms that aren't any longer bundled in the black cocoon of the sleeping bag. Leaning his head against the smooth rock wall Peeta's broad back is turned to me, therefore he's facing towards the sun, from behind I can tell his hair is tousled and unkempt due to an uneventful night of running his hands through his hair, plus an innumerable amount of days in the woodlands arena doesn't help. Each strand is a glossy gold illuminated by the sun creating a vibrant crown of yellow and orange hues.

What do I do now? How do I fix this mess and have him leave the arena unharmed and alive rather than arrive home dead in a body bag? With six tributes remaining I hate to believe it, but it seems true, the answer is to divert myself from him. My disappearance would equal a better chance of withstanding death for him, he'd have more supplies and in that case, less worries. Besides, when the fact of my debt to him is stirred in with it; then I'm certain there's no other choice. With Gale to help, my lifeless mother and high-spirited sister could bare my loss and suffice. But I couldn't bare the death of Peeta, especially when I would have known I could've prevented it.

It seems as if my next move has been printed out in bold italics and laid out on a paper before me. I have to go, before things become worse, before my injury becomes too severe and the immense demand and requirements that would have to be met for my survival drifts to Peeta's hands. But most of all, because I don't belong in the care of someone else; if I can't upkeep my stay or do work then I must not be here.

Deciding now would be a proper time to leave the sleeping bag and end my session of feigning slumber I clamber out of it. The task is strenuous but not time costly, I use my hands to clamp onto the cold rock flooring of the cave and my good leg to worm myself out of the roomy fabric walls. Once I'm successfully out I'm a bit surprised that Peeta didn't glance over to me at all during the noise I caused.

To proceed I decide I'd like to go to Peeta whose across the cave, he seems to be in haze of thoughts or possibly he's gazing at the muted orange sky that he appears to be enamored with by the way his orbs stare at it. I'm immensely hoping I can persuade him to take a deep slumber, I'm not good with words but maybe my desperation will take control of the words I utter.

Now my biggest obstacle seems to be going across the cave which isn't possibly anymore than twelve feet away but with the ablaze aching sizzling in my thigh which I'm too scared to look at it seems to be a myriad of miles. I cross limp-walking off my list, as soon as the weight would be applied to my injured leg I would drop like a brick to the cave floor; It's nothing medical it's common sense. The only other option would be to drag myself, this seems rough but ultimately much better than walking. If I can master dragging myself somewhat it wouldn't be a bad thing for when the time to leave comes around the corner.

And so, I do, pointing myself in that direction I clench my teeth and tug myself across the floor with my calloused hands while balancing on my all-too-flat breasts and my minuscule stomach which has gratefully accepted Peeta's food and now lies mostly filled by the small amount. As I recall he had frowned when he saw my small portion and tried to give me more which I vehemently refused while I speculated him dubiously.

As I move it creates a scraping sound like sand-paper against wood. This very sound echoes through the cave walls, and the movement painfully nips at my wound. Peeta breaks from his trance as his head snaps to me and he observes me keen-eyed.

Something clicks and he sharply gasps, "Katniss don't do that you're going to agitate your wound!" He rushes over to me, as a strong arm sweeps under my half-way crawling body and air rushes beneath me as he whisks me up with ease. The fear of falling hits me hard causing me to try and prevent it. I cling white-knuckles to the nearest thing, which right now is the expanse of cotton over his chest. With arms beneath my knees and shoulder blades I'm balanced in his arms, yet again. At my mini heart attack I'm more breathless than I should be, my small lungs choke on the air I take abnormal breath fulls of.

"If you want to move around just tell me so you don't stress your leg," he murmurs softly although in a scolding manner which startles me a bit. My chest clenches and I'm unable to respond.

He takes me to where he was sitting at the entrance bathed in light and covered in vines. Peeta sits himself down taking me with him, and does something unsettling, he arranges me on his thighs near his lap before he lazily places an arm around me. I become tense as I catch my breath in my dry throat. I feel as stiff and rigid as one of the stray rocks outlining the cave. I'm in such horror and surprise I can't begin to conceive a thought or a decision. Peeta steadily breathes behind me, as if he were awaiting a reaction, I'm not sure which one to give. Turn into a wildcat beneath his arms and abruptly pull myself away from him or stay still.

He's so solid and warm beneath me yet comfortable and he doesn't smell as bad as he should. Just a lot like trees and the river water that he'd washed me in; which reminds me of the woods back home. Out of the corner of my eye I notice his lack of sleep is evident. His eyes are filmed in a sleepy way and face is slightly snuggled in my hair as if it were a pillow. For the plan to work I need him to go to sleep, and now wouldn't be a bad time for I am rested up and desperate with enough adrenaline to drag myself that painful distance however long it may be. With a sigh I uncurl myself from the tight position and loosen my fists that have imprinted crescent moons into my palm. Carefully, I ease my weight down and lean back into his chest.

At my response he give a low contented sigh, a sound which makes a slight vibration against my lower back and causes me to feel flustered. Slowly he inclines his back to meet the curve of the cool wall, I lie my head back and try to make him believe I will be still and remain here when he wakes, however, when I lie my head back I bury his face in my hair and I feel his noes nudge against the top of my head. Although, like I so strongly thought he would he doesn't push me back, instead he shifts me ever so lightly so that I might be more comfortable on the expansive space of his chest. Now eased in the middle flush against him he makes his other arm loosely loop over me. My chest tightens as he gathers a lung-full of air through his noes no doubt inhaling the smell of my snarled hair. I don't act or fight his touch because after all, I have a task to be completed so he can go home.

It strikes me as odd of how he can so simply pick me up off the ground, sit down, and settle me in his lap. I can even fathom why he's doing this right now, what if his interview was actually true, that would certainly explain this; but it just doesn't seem likely. Maybe I'm the closest thing of home, of 12, and he's pulling me close and thinking of how life was, because he longs for his normal life and misses it. Perhaps he had a girlfriend or girlfriends, and the feel of a scrawny malnourished girl in his lap allows him to close his eyes and imagine it to be a plump blonde-haired one instead. The possibilities are endless, so I hardly allow myself to think of the first option that came to mind as real. And yet, I don't deny myself imaging Peeta Mellark in love with me. A picture of him gingerly feeding me soup and kissing me comes to mind, that and the feel of him beneath me is enough to activate a dull throbbing in the lower half of my body. Immediately I ban the thought from my mind, I'm wrong to be thinking like this in the Hunger Games which has one survivor. I'm thankful the capitol doesn't have the correct technology to read minds, because if they knew my mind set right now they'd certainly not allow me to leave this cave, rather the gamemaker's would keep me locked up with Peeta until they got something.

I shutter, I've never been interested in such a thing as love like the girl's manage back home. Back home Gale and Prim must be questioning me for being so close with a boy, but by the end of the day they will see my motives. Gale's as stubborn about taking as I am but I could imagine him calling me stupid for not taking advantage of Peeta's kindness. He however doesn't know about the bread and my unending debt to the boy with his arms around me.

The rapid flow of thoughts come to a halt as I hear it over the pounding in my head. Steady breathing. It means one thing, Peeta's asleep. As he sleeps I feel his chest gently lift me up and down at each breath, the comforting sense it gives doesn't make me question why my mother did the same thing with my father.

Despite my body's protest I begin to lightly tug his arm off me and set it to his side, I do so easily willing not to let him stir because of my stupidity. After I've freed myself from his grasp, I deliberately use my arms to leave the warm cradle of his body for the cold floor.

When I am fully off him and have absolutely no contact with him at all I turn to quietly flop to my stomach so I don't pressure my leg. From there I wait tentatively to make sure I haven't been to rough and awoken him but also even though I doubt it, he's acting asleep but really waiting to see my next move. If that is the case, he would be impeccable at feigning sleep because right now his breaths are normal and his face is loosened of stress and has allowed him to look rather carefree and boyish. Curiosity plays in my stomach and mind causing me to inch forward and look at him closer in the minimum sunlight provided.

The first thing I notice is he has long fair eyelashes, they're extraordinarily long for a boy's and I wonder if they'd tickle against my cheeks. Underneath that there's an abundance of hardly-existent freckles on his rosy cheeks, they're strangely endearing to me. I'd seen him as good-looking but I never really scoped him out, until now.

Guilt snaps onto me like a lock, he's so innocent, I remember thinking this thought earlier, and I'm reminded of it looking at his calm face. He doesn't know he'll awaken to an empty cave and that's what feels extremely wrong and makes me nauseous. I'll be leaving the boy whose saved me twice and gone as far as taking a beating so that I could live.

Without another glint of my eyes to him, I pull my body past the boy with bread a silent goodbye on my lips and a strong flaring ache in my leg but it seems to be nothing compared to the heaviness of my heart. I'll probably never see Peeta again.


End file.
